What the Moon Kept

I can remember when I was so new,
confused, but loved, and had not a clue.
A flower like any, yet different in bloom,
for I only blossomed… beneath the moon.

While others awoke to the kiss of the sun,
my petals unfurled when the daylight was done.
The stars were my garden, the night was my home,
and I never imagined I'd blossom alone.

Gentle hands found me and called me rare.
They whispered I was beautiful beyond compare.
They promised forever with every embrace,
and I learned to bloom by the light of their face.

But seasons can change without warning or sound.
The hands that once held me no longer came around.
My petals grew heavy, my colors turned gray,
and one by one, they drifted away.

I did not know that I would decay.
The light I loved now watches my grave.
The moon still searched for the flower I had been,
but the garden had forgotten I'd ever lived within.

Where love once helped my roots run deep,
silence became the soil that I keep.
If you pass my garden on a quiet night,
you may not see me in the pale moonlight.

The roots are still buried where I once grew,
holding the memories of a love I once knew.
The world moved on, the seasons changed,
and no one remembered my forgotten name.